


Brother Dear

by 221B_johnlock_st



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: CRIED, Cute, Dead relatives, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Happy Ending, Hugging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John died, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, No Sex, Overdosing, Sad, Sad but cute, Sherlock and john die before the story begins, background Johnlock, cries, mentions on suicide, mycroft crys, mycroft is sad, mystrade, sherlock died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_johnlock_st/pseuds/221B_johnlock_st
Summary: Greg visits his dad grave once a month, after a few months a new headstone has arrived at the cemetery and with it comes a tall ginger with an umbrella and a suit. When he sees the man break down in front of the grave he can't help but try to console the other man.Warning: mention/implied suicide, drug usage, and death of a family member.





	

Greg’s Dad died when he was 25. It wasn’t much of a shock the man did have stage four cancer after all. He came to accept the fate of his father before he passed because his father had lived a long and fulfilling life. This didn’t stop him from mourning his loss after his father died by visiting his grave every month. The habit stuck and even a year later he was still visiting his father monthly, usually only for 20 minutes or so, but it was very relaxing.

5 months in there was a new headstone a few meters away from his father's. He wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the man that came with it. The man was always there when he came and Greg was always the first to leave. He figured it was the loss of someone close, and the man just visited daily at the same time Greg normally came. He started paying closer attention 3 months into the other man's visits. He was younger than Greg and always had a suit on with an umbrella in hand even on the sunniest of days. Greg had caught glimpses of the other man's face occasionally, but the other man mostly stayed facing the headstone, sometimes he let his fingers sweep over the name etched into the black stone or mumbled illegible words from where Greg was standing. He seemed to put together for someone who visited a grave every day, but from the occasions, Greg saw his face he could tell the man wasn’t as put together as the man would probably like everyone to think. Sometimes it was the bit of stubble Greg could make out from the distance, other times it was the slight pink hue around the other man's eyes, never tears, however, 

Greg didn't know why he chose today to visit his father, most the time he came when something big happened, like when he got a promotion, or when he finally broke up with his cheating girlfriend. Nothing had happened today or this week, but Greg just felt like he needed to go.  
It was 5 pm right around the same time he showed up every other time, and just like any other time, the other man was already there. Greg stood for a while before he noticed the gloominess surrounding the other man. His shoulders were hunched and his knuckles were white from his firm grip on the handle of the trolley. When Greg heard a sob he began to worry because through all these months he had never once seen a single tear in the other man's eyes, but today he seemed to be breaking down right before Greg's very eyes. He watched as the shoulders on the other man trembled, and he couldn’t stop himself from going over to check on him. He walked over and stopped next to the other man who had apparently heard him coming and was now try with all his might to suppress his whimpers

“Hey, sorry I could help but hear, and well I just, well I don't know what i- just I know how it feels, maybe not depending I guess, but you know what. Do want a hug because I think you could use a hug.” The other man looked up at him with red eyes before slumping into him. He was taller but that didn't stop him from baring his face in Greg's shoulder and sobbing. They stood like this for a while and surprisingly it wasn’t all too awkward. After a while, the man pulled away, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes and nose.

“I’m sorry about all that, but thank you” The man, offered his hand and Greg shock it, “Mycroft Holmes”

“Greg Lestrade, do you, umm, want to talk about it.” He gestured to the grave and nearly slapped himself when he saw the surprised look on the other man's face

“I don't want to keep you,” Mycroft replied

“No, really I’ve got time” Greg stated awkwardly

“Yes, well. My brother, Sherlock, he was alway the type to get in trouble, get mixed in with the wrong crowds. He despised me in his teen years because my aim was to keep him on the right track because he was brilliant. The kind of intelligence he had wasn’t often coupled with a big heart, so I set out to protect him. I was his older brother after all. But by the time he was seventeen he managed to find I suitable drug dealer, nothing too bad at first, but it accelerated. I tried to help him, tried to send him to rehab everything. By the time he was eighteen he preference was cocaine, it calmed his brain he claimed. He met someone, however, John Watson, only two years older than him. John managed to talk so sense into him, he went to rehab and stayed there. He was clean for a year before John was sent to Afghanistan. He enlisted before he met Sherlock, but it was his first deployment. Sherlock was devastated, his only friend was leaving him. He begged John to stay begged me to get him out of it. I was there when he left Sherlock wouldn’t let go. He was crying. John promised Sherlock that he would be back for him, that he would live for them. They skyped when John could but it wasn’t often and about 5 months in John's sister called Sherlock. John had died in combat. John was Sherlock’s best friend, I believe more than friends after Sherlock got clean. On the night of the funeral, I went to pick him up from his flat. When I walked in he was on the floor with a-a needle still in his arm and I-, well today is his birthday, he would have been 21. And I just can’t- He didn’t even make it to 21.” Mycroft was crying again.

“I’m sorry” Greg replied

Mycroft shook his head “Don’t be, he, well. John was his everything, and I can only imagine what it was like for him to get that call, what it was like to lose the person who saved him without even being given the opportunity to try to help.” Mycroft wiped his face again “Thank you for everything, this was something that I need. Let me repay you with dinner. I have a car coming to pick me up in a few minutes.”

And that was how the story was told, Sometimes shortened of course, of How Mycroft and Lestrade Holmes meet. They later went on to get married and adopt two children. Sherlock Holmes, and William Holmes.

THE END


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